An Accidental Memory In the Case of Death
by Xyliette
Summary: A/U. Pre-Seattle. A parent's worst nightmare. Derek/Addison.
1. Radio Ballet

A/N: In my head this is (highly improbable) backstory, the kind that happens and you never, ever speak of it again. Or...it's just flat out A/U. Either way, dying child. There be your only warning. Also, this is split up because it got long and because no one needs over twenty pages of weird angst. I will have the second half up in a few days. Enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
An Accidental Memory In the Case of Death  
- Eluvium  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

If you asked Addison, not that Mark did, she would say that she has known there was something wrong since the first appointment. The moment she heard her child's heartbeat she knew. On the other hand, if you asked Derek, which Mark also did not, he would tell you that he wasn't certain until he held her for the first time. Five pounds, two ounces, seventeen inches of looming heartache. Lillian, they called her.

"Uncle Mark?" Derek's hair, Addison's eyes and somebody else's nose. He turns to the sound of his name, his goddaughter awake but still drowsy. His smile is small but genuine. She seems to bring it out in him, this calmness. There's no sense in rushing, no point in being overly flirtatious and annoying. It's only him and her, a relationship as odd as any other in his life.

"Where's Mommy?" she asks while he strokes her arm. It's warm to the touch, purple pajamas bunched up to her elbow from a fitful rest.

"She'll be back," he assures her with a firm pat. "They're still at dinner."

And with that she eases back down on the hospital pillows and the straight line in her mouth that she gets from Addison turns sheepishly upward to a tiny grin. "Can we read?"

"Of course," he replies. He lets her do as she pleases when it's his turn on the rotating shift. It's all he can give. The thin pages fall open over his scrub covered legs and slowly he whisks them both away to another land. One with cotton candy colored sand, lapping waves, and children who play under the sun.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself," Derek insists halfway into the meal, fisting the black fabric napkin and shoving it onto his lap once again.

They've gone through the habitual questions, the dealing with what if the nurses don't pay enough attention to her, what if they don't give her the right medication in the right way, and what if she wakes up and no one is there and she's scared. They've dealt with Addison calling to check in, twice. And now he finds they are just at their wits end. He has the same worries, he just believes that at least one person on that never changing staff that they hand picked is capable of doing their job. He's tired of fighting for her attention, and she's simply exhausted and consumed.

She's not enjoying herself, and they both know it.

"How was your day?" she asks instead, resigned and already through with the day.

"Good," he nods disingenuously. It's the same old song and dance, their conversation never veering sharply enough to snatch her out of auto pilot mode. "O'Brien let me assist him and I got to do more than hold a clamp and watch like an intern for once."

"I started reading _The Secret Garden_ to Lilly. I finally remembered to have Savvy-"

"No," Derek interrupts. "This is just us Addison. Just...us right now."

She drops her head and digs her teeth into the red lips that are threatening to quiver. With a brief flash it's gone and she rips a piece of bread with no intention of eating.

Derek takes in the silence and soaks. It's unideal, and he's not happy that it's come to this but he's trying. Attempting to have a normal date with the woman he loves. "I was thinking maybe we could go up to Mom's this weekend. We're both off." He stops when she doesn't even look up at him. "It's Fourth of July. Picnic, fireworks, Nancy's kids driving us crazy, you know the routine."

The red alarm bells begin to swirl through Addison's head, their squeal hurting her ears. Sure, it's potato salad and wagon rides but it's also his family nagging her, giving advice, and throwing hugs every which way. Plus Lillian can't be there, and she needs that shield around those people.

"I already said we'd be there," Derek manages to squeak out.

"Have fun," she nods and orders another bottle of wine.

"Addison," he begins softly, his hand taking hers over the unused forks and smooth tablecloth. "Kathleen says that it's a good idea to get away sometimes. She's not going anywhere-"

"Don't," she warns with a clenched jaw and forced glare. "Don't do this here."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"And we're back," Derek announces as Mark's eyes pop open in surprise and he stretches against the chair Addison is always occupying. He stands guard when she isn't here, an unspoken agreement between friends.

"Hey."

"Hi," Derek replies, Addison bristling by them both to kiss her daughter's sleeping head. She brushes a few stray bangs off of her forehead and then settles into the space Mark just vacated to watch. She sees everything. Every inhale, exhale, sputter, and gasp. Every tear, every word, every threat. It's all hers.

"Say goodnight Addie," Derek instructs, having come to agreement in the cab on the way back. Tonight they were sleeping in their own bed. No on call rooms and uncomfortable chairs. It will be their laundered sheets in the room they haven't seen for more than ten seconds in months.

"Night Sweetheart," Addison whispers, making sure no one who cares can hear her. She feels her heart tug as Derek leads her from the room with a hand on her back, and another playing with her fingers, having something to grasp in case she tries to turn around.

"It's only one night," Derek tells her, working overtime to make his tone appear supportive instead of infuriated, when they enter the magically empty elevator.

"But what if-"

"She won't," Derek says calmly, finding that when his voice is steady and clear Addison follows along much faster. "And I have to be at work again at five-thirty. We won't be gone long. I promise." He kisses her cheek on the way to the car and catches the lingering taste of salt. It seems that's always there these days.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Holstat said they are beginning another clinical trial on Monday. I think we should try and get her in," Addison says flatly after they enter the brownstone, her coat hanging from the rack, Derek's keys dropped into the bowl by the door.

"I looked it over and-"

"Don't say no," Addison pleads, dropping onto the couch. "Please...let's try this one."

"We've tried all of them," Derek grumbles and fixes himself a scotch before offering her one.

"We haven't," Addison refutes and takes a glass of water this time instead. Alcohol clouds her judgment and she needs the few moments of clarity she has lately.

Derek finds a light jazz station on the radio and lets it simmer before deciding it will be suitable background noise. The television tends to startle Addison lately and the foot traffic and commotion outside isn't enough to keep him from feeling like he is suffocating. "I think we shouldn't. It's best for her that we don't."

"No, it's best that we try. We have to try. It's our job to try Derek."

"We have tried. Terminal, Addison, I know you aren't on rotations right now but you have a general understanding of-"

"Stop it," she fights back, taking the bait. "Stop. Stop treating her like she's already gone. You don't even talk to her anymore. You didn't tell her goodnight," she pouts suddenly. It's much more important than it seems.

"I did when we left for dinner. When she was awake. We weren't supposed to go back," he says with a sigh and folds himself onto the space next to her, mindful not to touch.

"You treat her like a patient," Addison whispers and he nods sadly, caught in his game, always unsure of how she can see through him so clearly.

In the end it comes down to survival. It's how he deals, that's how he goes to work everyday. How he gets up in the morning, how he finds sleep at night. They won't save her but there's no reason why maybe they can't learn something from her. And perhaps they'll save the next kid with what they gather. That's his approach.

"She's our daughter. Not your patient!" Addison explodes, breaking his reverie, and inches away her hands jerk up toward her chest when he pulls one in to console without thought.

"I know," he stumbles. "I know that."

"I'm going to bed," she announces and drifts toward the stairs without inviting him, her cell phone already being dialed to call and check with Mark before she attempts to catch about an hour of rest.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I'm sorry," Derek mutters as he enters their room a few minutes later. "I'm sorry Addison."

She pulls the comforter up to her chin and remains focused on the ceiling.

Lillian wasn't unwanted but she also wasn't planned. She was resented and for that Addison feels guilt. Guilt of epic proportions that tends to tell her this is what she gets for ever having thought that one could wish for a miscarriage when blowing out birthday candles. But then Derek found out two days later and it was too late to do any sort of hoping because he was absolutely over the moon. The way he smiled, the tears in his eyes as he held her tightly, these are the things that come to mind when she's left alone, when there are no monitors keeping them both steady and strong. When there isn't a small child to her left to watch over and stroke and love.

These type of evenings torment her, turn her into an uncontrollable tornado of feelings and memories. It's the one thing she truly loathes about the entire process. She can deal with yelling at incompetent nurses, reading stories to an already sleeping child to keep herself in check, and never sleeping. But being alone with herself is frightening. Focusing on anything other that Lilly is too difficult.

Addison doesn't blink when Derek enters the room and she doesn't acknowledge when he speaks. She knew he'd follow just as much as she knows what comes next. The apology. She lets him kiss down her chin, her lips. Allows his hands to roam under her shirt, thinking he needs some sort of release to deal with the tension. It's distracting and that's appreciated. In truth, she doesn't mind his light moans, his staggered breathing, or the stars that he can still make her see. What she minds is the moments directly following, the afterglow that's dusted with unspoken words.

Derek is intent on taking his time this evening, but his wife is on a different course. Her fingers tug at his sweats impatiently as his sweetly undo buttons. Her teeth imprint his bottom lip while his take pleasure in lulling over collarbone. He murmurs something about going slower but then her hand finds something else to hold and he loses his footing, stumbling down a steep slope of pleasure that is always followed by pain.

It's frenzied when they have hours, intense instead of built up, unsatisfying and yet neither settles down unpleased. Her legs still tingle the same way, toes curling into the sheets. His chest still feels like exploding as his eyes find a way to roll further back. Just like the first time, just like the last time.

But it's different, it's as though she's not really there at all. Her motions on a predetermined path, her moans robotic in their consistency. He pauses only once to try and regain control of the tempo but she rolls them both over and he gives up, letting her do as she pleases.

It's nice to be able to give her something for just a minute, even if it comes at his expense.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Talk to me Addie," Derek presses, wriggling back into his pajamas and sliding closer to his silent partner. "We never talk anymore."

"There's nothing to say," Addison whispers, her throat thick with what just happened. He's playing with her hair, rubbing her spine in that certain way that makes her wiggle away and yet all she can do is curl into a tighter ball and stare at the closet doors. She's locked back in her hell, preoccupied with worry.

"There's plenty," he counters.

"I can't." And she means it. It's become that black and white.

"Kathleen says that sometimes-"

"I would appreciate it," she decides then and there, "if you wouldn't talk to Kathleen behind my back again."

"It's not- that's not what I'm doing. She called me, she asked-"

"Don't say anything then. She's not here. She's not in this, so frankly I don't care what she thinks or says or knows."

"Ok." Derek nuzzles into her neck, taking in her fresh scent. "I didn't do it to upset you. I thought she could help...us. We could use some help."

"I could use my husband. Lilly could use her father," Addison lashes out. "That's what we need. Just you."

And a miracle, Derek tacks on in his head. "I'm here," he mumbles into her ear, the words swirling softly, matched with a tender kiss to her jaw. "I'm right here." He feels her breath catch, hears her chest sputter. "Let it out Addie, it's just me."

This is why she stays in the hospital. There's no one to coerce into letting go, no one forcing her to be in the moment instead of around it, no one pushing her over the edge. Regardless, the tears fall. Rapidly racing through her lashes and streaming down her skin. Her head pounds with pressure, teeth rattle when she shakes, legs freeze when Derek pushes himself impossibly closer and drowns his grief in hers.

Their daughter is dying and he can't fix that. All he can do is hold on. As a doctor it's frustrating, as a father it's unfathomable.

He sniffles once more sending her back over the edge, neither powerful enough to deal with his collapse. They'll look worse for the wear tomorrow but he'll take it because in this moment, though it be anguishing, they are connecting. Temporarily aligned in the muck for the first time during the course of the last few weeks.

However, when he wakes up four hours later and she's already gone he's anything but shocked.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Hey Princess," Derek greets, white lab coat flowing behind him as he sweeps into the room on his lunch. He drops the tray next to Addison, chocolate pudding and an extra spoon for her in case she feels like eating something today, and then proceeds directly to the bed and snuggles with his daughter. He carefully avoids different tubes and cords, pulling her in for a hug. "How you been?"

"Good," she giggles, too young to understand the implication behind the question. Too young to really understand what's happening, but still blessed with an inane ability to understand that whatever it is makes Mommy sad and that they shouldn't talk about it.

"That's what I like to hear. What have you and Mommy been up to today?" He asks, pulling his stethoscope off and pressing it to her chest, listening as she takes deep breaths without being prompted. It's habit.

"We watched Nemo," she tells him, relaxing against him and yawning.

"Without me?" Derek asks, pretending to be offended, to which Addison just scowls. She's watched Nemo every day for the last three months. It's Lilly's favorite. He kisses her dark waves when she offers to watch again, if he'll stay. He explains that he has to return to work but he'll back as soon as he can, just like always.

He reaches a hand out to Addison who shuffles her chair a little closer, and rests her chin on his legs. Though the stops for lunch and other breaks have become more frequent they're still not a ritual and she enjoys just having her family all together in one room. Her tired eyes beg to be closed and she indulges herself, cheek pressed into her husband's warm thigh.

Derek finds himself drifting off to sleep, hands relaxing in the mess of tangled red hair they've found to stroke, before his pager blares next to Addison's ear causing her to jump. He silences it, grimaces at the code, pecks his wife's groggy lips and tells her he'll back shortly. Lilly, who is already fast asleep, gets no goodbye. There's no point. He's said it so many times already.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Can we talk real fast Addie?" Derek questions, poking his head into the room, long after the sun has set. He watches her drop her knitting needles, a hobby she's taken up as something to do. Something quiet and involving. It focuses her mind and allows her daughter rest when her voice gets scratchy from reading aloud all the books she thinks little girls should get to read in their lifetime.

"Yeah," Addison replies and sets the soft yellow yarn down in her chair as she leaves. Her glance lingers momentarily, making certain that Lilly's eyes aren't going to flutter open and notice her absence.

"Maybe we should..." Derek edges off, trying to steer her toward an empty on call room.

"No," Addison tells him sternly. She needs to be here. Right here, outside the door.

"Ok," Derek nods numbly. Today's a gentle day. A day to be easy with her. On a good day she'll leave the room, on the worst days she won't even excuse herself to use the restroom unless he's there to supervise.

"What?"

"I got a chance to talk to Holstat again-"

"Without me," she interjects softly.

"Not purposefully Add, it just happened." He watches her purse her lips and continues in a steady manner. "He looked over the clinical trial again," he pauses as her eyes flicker suddenly with recognition, bringing Addison back from wherever she just was, "and we both think that this one isn't a good fit. Lilly isn't what they are looking for and we think," he stops again while her face drops, his fingers beginning to rub her arm consolingly, "that it's best that we don't pursue this one. There's no sense in making her sicker for something that isn't geared toward ultimately making her better. Okay?"

"But he said that it was...a good fit."

"Maybe he didn't get a chance to really look it over before, when he spoke with you."

"He's her doctor, that's his job Derek."

"I know," he agrees quickly. "Maybe...no, I'll talk to him about it. About doing that. It wasn't fair of him to do that to you and Lilly."

"And you," she adds.

"Right." Derek knows the answer. No one likes talking to Addison about anything to do with Lilly. She's overbearing and heartbreakingly hopeful. No one can tell her no, no one can tell her that something won't work. They all leave it to him. "Maybe there's another one...we haven't found," Derek volunteers a few seconds later. In his weakest moments he finds her despair is contagious, even when he knows better than to fall into it. He's the realist, she shoulders the wishes for a future with their daughter. A delicate balance always threatening to give out.

"Yeah," she grins, lips flipping into a frown that gets her a firm hug from Derek.

"I'm off at seven today...I was thinking maybe we could both stay in here tonight and then go to Mom's tomorrow. I know," he speaks a little louder when she tries to interrupt, "you don't want to be there and it's not the best way I can think to spend the weekend but it'll be good for us. It's good for Lilly too."

"I'm not leaving her."

"I'm not asking you to leave her...we'll go up for the afternoon, take pictures to show Lilly-"

"Of everything she's missing because she's stuck in a hospital bed? How will that be good for her?" Addison asks, pulling out of his embrace hastily, and wrapping her arms around herself.

"She misses her family Addie, she talks about Nana-"

"Who hasn't been here to see her-"

"It's hard...for everyone. Addison, please," Derek begs, as nurses begin to perk up their ears. "We'll talk to her about it. If she's alright with us being gone for a few hours we'll go, just on Saturday. If not, then I'll go out and get some movies and we'll stay here. All weekend, no pager. Let's ask her first though. Please."

"Promise you'll stay tonight?" Addison questions in disbelief. Every time he's said that lately something comes up and she's the one squashing her daughter's hopes of hanging out with Daddy, who incidentally happens to be her do-no-wrong hero.

"I promise," he kisses her forehead soundly, liking the sigh of relief she gives off.

"Okay," Addison nods, slightly uncertain but not wanting to fight with him out in the hall where not only the staff can hear but also her baby girl.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"See?" Derek grins smugly, looping an arm around Addison's waist, pulling her closer. "It's not all bad."

"I guess not," Addison concedes bringing the fruit punch back to her lips. She still wishes Lillian was there, playing with her cousins, trying to keep up with everyone but as long as Derek is right next to her no one will bother asking questions or offering heaping plates full of pity. Together they are indestructible.

"Hey," Nancy smiles and hugs both of them suddenly. "Glad you guys came up."

"Yeah," Derek agrees, keeping his paper plate steady, plastic fork sticking out of chunky macaroni salad.

"How's...how is Lilly?" She asks, eyes facing the rest of the family at the staggered tables out under the brutal sun.

"She's..."

"She's doing well," Addison jumps in, rescuing Derek.

"I promised Mom I'd ask, so Kathleen didn't come over and drive you guys insane." Nancy shakes her head and chuckles. "But you know, if you need anything, either of you, I'd be there in an instant."

"Thank you," Derek gulps, eyes beginning to brim in a manner he isn't comfortable with around his closest sister.

"How's Jack?" Addison asks, watching the group of kids attempt to shovel food into their mouths instead of onto their clothes.

"He's good, busy. Sorry he couldn't be here."

"Yeah," Addison smirks, "I bet."

"Well, maybe he isn't exactly sorry," Nancy explains. "But I know he likes all of our craziness even when he won't admit it. A lot like someone else I know." She pokes Addison in the shoulder and falls easily into medical talk about her new patients, careful not to ask when Addison thinks she'll be coming back to finish up her other fellowship. On behalf of her family she asked what she had to, on behalf of herself she's keeping it cool, wanting to make sure that they have an enjoyable time if it's possible.

Derek excuses himself to answer the vibrating in his pocket a few minutes in, beyond joyous to be pulled from the conversation about uteruses and placental abruptions. "Hello?"

_"Dr. Shepherd?"_

"Speaking," Derek replies thoughtlessly, dropping his empty plate into the overflowing garbage in the kitchen. His fingers begin to trace over the counters he's known since he was a child.

_"Dr. Shepherd, we need you to come in."_

"Who is this?"

_"Molly," she squeaks, "Molly Walters...Dr. Walters."_

"Dr. Walters I'm not on call this weekend but if you page upstairs I'm sure that someone can help you."

_"I'm calling about Lilly-Lillian sir," she swallows heavily staring at the child in the other room._

"You aren't one of Lilly's doctors," Derek snaps back, running down the list again. Nurses, doctors, back-ups. No Molly Walters.

_"No, sir, I'm not. I'm an intern-"_

"Interns aren't allowed-"  
_  
"I was passing by," Molly interrupts. "I saw her through the window, the blinds weren't drawn. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

"What happened?" Derek demands instantly, not liking the sounds of the finicky intern on the line.

_"She was having problems breathing. None of the nurses were around, I paged Dr. Holstat but he was out. I called the code...I-I did..."_

"Spit it out," Derek shouts at her, dashing around the back of the stairs so no one outside can hear him.

_"I couldn't get the tube in, It-it wouldn't go in," Molly stutters, hands beginning to shake just like before._

"What tube?"

_"I was going to intubate her, she couldn't breathe."_

"And instead?"

_"I-I...preformed a cricothyroidotomoy."_

"On my four year old!"

_"It was the only thing I could think of, I-I didn't mean to-"_

"How is she?"  
_  
"She's...stable, sedated. They are running a few tests...sir."_

"We're on our way back. Tell Holstat I want him in that room in two hours with a damn good explanation." Derek jams the red button on the phone without a goodbye and then runs to the bathroom, nearly throwing up on the hall rug before he can slam the door shut. The contents of his holiday celebration churn instantly, leaving him crouched over the toilet much longer than he anticipates.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Was her airway-"

"I don't know," Derek cuts her off as they slowly pull out of the driveway, after having made up some excuse so no one would try and come with them for the emergency.

"Is she on a ventilat-"

"I didn't ask," Derek tells her, blinker steadily pounding away the tension.

"Is it still in?"

"Probably," Derek shakes his head gloomily. They weren't there and there isn't a doubt in his mind that she wasn't terrified for the entire experience. God, he should have been there, even if it was just so that he could be the one slicing open her throat.

"Why was that...girl even in there?"

"I don't know Addison." He watches her retire against the seat, shoulders clenched together, fingers beginning to play with her cuticles. He quickly places a hand over them, not wanting to watch her rip her skin until it bleeds. "It's going to be okay. She's stable. We'll figure this out...we'll figure it out."

"You don't know that," Addison whispers and then reaches for the volume dial. Two hours never seemed so long.

"No," Derek concurs. "But...I don't want you to worry. We won't worry until we know." He squeezes her hand tighter, more for himself, not feeling her give off any pressure in return. "Deal?"

Addison feels the air getting thicker with each passing second, every car that Derek speeds around recklessly. She runs through all the possibilities, their outcomes, the treatments that would follow, the recovery time for every scenario imaginable. She's got the best results on one side of her palm, invisible, the worst on the other. Complications envisioned on her left hand, front and back. Then she numbers them, shuffles them in her mind alphabetically and puts them back in their place along the cracks and crevices.

Derek notes that his swearing goes unnoticed by his passenger, as does the aggressive road rage he seems to have picked up from Mark. His heart pumps faster as the clock counts down the minutes to their destination. He replays the conversation over and over. Intonation, pauses, stumbles in speech. She was nervous, she wasn't supposed to be there. It could be nothing, it could be the end. His mind goes wild for the duration.

By the time they arrive Derek's ready to go run a race, Addison prepared to fight a war.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


	2. Genius and the Thieves

A/N: I know what you're thinking, and my answer is yes, it really did take me this long to update and yes, I am a horrible person but school! and work! and school! and okay, I'm done with trying to distract you with nonsense. You were all so very amazing with what your comments last time and I appreciated it deeply because this story is rather close to my heart, no matter how many times I kill things, so thank you, thank you, thank you for following my crazy indulgence of grief and depression. All titles belong to Eluvium and the literary reference in this chapter is also not mine. Onward and enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
Genius and the Thieves  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Their hands remain tightly tangled from the moment they exit the car until they are stalking down the hallway toward the familiar room that feels like home. Nurses scurry out of the way, interns hide behind corners, and doctors pretend to be strong enough to deflect the urgency they give off. Spiked heels and shiny black shoes carry them through a maze, leading them to the site of the incident.

"Where is she?" Addison asks, looking frantically around the empty room. Bed devoid of beloved toys and unfinished books.

"I-don't know," Derek sputters, jerking his head out into the hallway, watching for any sign of Lilly. He storms out toward the nurse's station, leaving Addison to systematically check behind cupboard doors and shower curtains. "Excuse me? Where is my...I'm looking for Lillian Shepherd, she's not in her room. Can you tell me where she is?"

"Dr. Holstat took her down for a few scans. He said to tell you he'd be back up shortly but that these couldn't wait until you arrived."

"Why?"

"I don't know Dr. Shepherd, I wasn't privy to that information. If you like I can page him and let him know you've arrived."

"Yes, thank you," Derek rambles off, retreating back toward Addison.

"So?"

"Holstat has her, he'll be in shortly."

"Is she okay?" Addison asks worriedly. She'd sit but she can't, she'd stand still but it's impossible.

"I...don't know Addie," he admits, wanting her to come closer so he can hold her until someone brings their child back and explains what the hell happened in here. Instead, she retracts, folds in on herself. Her own hands clasp together, wrung white at the knuckles, and her teeth break the tender skin on the inside of her mouth as she waits, the bitter taste of blood sliding onto her tongue. For Derek, watching her hurt is almost more painful than the rest of it. Then again, he's never been good with things he can't help fix.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I'll leave...these," Dr. James Holstat says softly, placing the chart and emerging results from Lillian's scans on the table next to her bed. He's been her physician since the Shepherd's hunted him down almost three years ago. He knows how to handle them, which one to apply pressure to, when to be calm but he's reached his end here. As a physician it's sad but it's a waste of resources (an exercise that he doesn't need), as a person it's dreadful but necessary. "It's best that we make a decision shortly, you understand?"

"Yes," Derek replies for both of them and silently fights his wife for the papers.

"We have to operate," Addison says immediately, as soon as the older gentlemen has excused himself.

"Addison-"

"Derek," she retorts in the same scolding tone.

"We need to consider all the options."

"There are no options, this is the only route." She flips through a few more pages, confirming what was already patiently explained to her.

"Then what?" Derek asks, his voice threatening to give out at any point as he drops into a chair and begins to feel the weight press itself on him.

Addison shakes her head, clearly confused, "What do you-"

"Then what Addie? We do the same for the next one and the one after that and then the one after that? When does it end? Do we cut away all of her insides, gut her? Is that what you want?"

"She's...I thought-" Addison stops, brimming with the awareness that they are no longer on the same playing field. She's fighting for her daughter, Derek is fighting for a patient. "We can't do nothing!"

"Fine," Derek whispers, unable to give any more effort as his eyes trace over the advanced classification of the disease that is eating away at his child. It hasn't been good for most of her life but they had a chance. They caught it early, they did everything right, having holes in their hips to prove it. Round after round, experiments, drug cocktails, and nothing worked. It prevailed and progressed, slowly at first, proving only more aggressive in the last year. Filing all three of them into a hospital with no ideas, no new plans, and only hope stringing them along. It has to stop. At some point they are hurting her more than the disease is and for Derek, that time is now.

"Derek," Addison replies, concerned by his manner of shutting down. "What are you-"

"She could die in there, you know that, right? She could die in an operating room full of people she doesn't know, in a situation she hasn't been given a say in."

"She's a child!" Addison shouts back at him, the door jolting into place after a firm push.

"And infections, if she manages to make it through. I just...I can't..."

"What?" Addison demands, taking a seat on the vacated bed, a location she's occupied frequently.

"What's the point?" Derek questions. "What is the point of putting her through this?"

Addison's eyebrow's crease involuntarily, mind mulling over the issue. "She's going to be fin-"

"She's not," Derek interjects rising from his seat. "She is dying, at an increased rate now, did you read these all the way through?" He throws the pages at her, most of them fluttering to the ground like lead, a few catching on the scratchy fabric of the bed and hanging on for dear life. "She's not going to be fine Addison, even if she does make it through the surgery. We're out of time here."

The steady "o" of Addison's lips are only matched by her uneven breathing. Her eyes scan left to right, trying to discern her husband from the man in front of her storming around the room, kicking at books on the ground, ready to punch a wall. "Don't say that."

"I'm telling you the truth. Maybe it's not what you want to hear, maybe no one else can bear to break the news but it's my job- as her father, as a doctor. Why can't we enjoy the last few days or weeks we have with her instead of forcing her into an elective operation that will do nothing to improve her overall status." He watches her stare out the window, face a blank, mind certainly not far behind. He hates when she does this, the hollow shell that takes the place of a once wonderfully intelligent being. "Answer me, as a surgeon, if you were her doctor, what would you be advising?"

"I-I...this is different," she stumbles, feelings of betrayal beginning to bubble in her stomach.

"You're making it different. If she was your patient-"

"She's not!" Addison shrieks suddenly. "She's not my patient, she's my daughter, she's your daughter. Stop, stop it, stop it, stop it!"

"You think this is a conversation I want to be having with you?" Derek retorts angrily, his voice trying to rise with hers, feelings being temporarily displaced on a person that is already hurting enough for the entire floor. "You think I enjoy talking about this, that I enjoy watching your face when I tell you our daughter," he emphasizes strongly, "our daughter is dying. Do you honestly believe that I would try and talk you out of something that would give her more time?"

"No," she replies without hesitation, unsure if the voices in the room really belong to them. They sound so far away, as if she's on the outside. Surely, this is someone else's life.

Deflated, he drops next to her and takes her hand without permission. They rise and fall quickly these days, neither trained enough to withstand the endurance it takes to fight. "It can be treated without surgery, you know that. Why are we doing this to her?"

"I can't...not."

"We're operating?" He receives a weak nod and lets it go, praying that maybe something merciful will happen in that OR. "I'll go inform Holstat."

When the door swings wide open again, bright light spilling into the room, Addison drops her head into her hands and then curls up on the bed, discarded bedding knotted through her fingers. She's losing on all fronts, and there isn't any sign of a white flag waving in the countryside yet.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Dr-Dr. Shepherd?" Molly stutters, side stepping to get out of his way. When he doesn't answer she kicks up her feet and begins to jog after him, jumping out at the last moment and coming within inches of being toppled over like a bowling pin. "Look, I know I shouldn't have been in there...and my resident is probably going to kill me when she can find me...and you probably hate me, but I-I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Face to face. I'm so very sorry."

"It's fine," Derek shoots back, mind already ten paces down the hall.

"It's not, you don't have to say that. You don't know how much I wish it was different-"

"I'm not going to wash away your guilt," Derek tells her. "You're a doctor, it's your job to deal with-"

"I couldn't get it in, she couldn't-"

"And now you are talking over a superior. You have a lot to learn Dr. Walters, now if you'll excuse me." He walks away without her permission, not seeking out an argument, attempting to keep cool. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and suddenly he spins around, nearly knocking over Molly like a glass figurine in the process. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to try and break her into a million pieces. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and with regard to Lilly he'd prefer to think what Addison does, that in a few years time they will have a happy, healthy, normal little girl. The things he would give to think that. "What?"

"You're ungrateful," she mutters, more to herself, afraid to use the backbone she was born with.

"I said it was fine, don't push this."

"I saved her life. If I wasn't walking through an area I had no business being in then-"

"You didn't save her, you prolonged it. You stretched it out. No one is saving her, it can't be done." Derek drops off his toes and hunches over in the middle of the hallway catching the attention of a few too many. His jeans strangle and lean, his gentle button up suddenly feels like a pile of cement. The hand on his shoulder is unwanted and he shrugs it off, watching Molly flop down next to him.

"I didn't know," Molly replies, jutting her legs out straight in front of her and bouncing her knees. She's been on the never ending shift for nearly two days and it pains her to sit.

"Now you do," Derek retorts tersely.

"I'm so-"

"Don't," Derek interrupts her softly, feeling like the fourth wall may just fall over onto him if he hears the phrase one more time. "You did...what you could and really, I should thank you. If you hadn't done that we wouldn't have known how bad it is..."

"Well I try my best to screw up as often as possible," Molly jokes nervously and sighs when he doesn't catch on. Their paths are forever twisted together, and it makes her uneasy. "She looks like a pretty great kid."

"She is," Derek smiles and nods. "She really is."

"Derek!" Mark shouts as he races towards the pair. "What happened?" He pants, hands slapped to his legs, lungs racing from the five flights of stairs he just flew through.

"I need to go find..." he lingers for a second. "Dr. Walters here will tell you all about it."

Karma, Addison believes in. Payback is more Derek's style. When he hears the shouting out of Mark's vulgar mouth thirty seconds later, he knows the score is even.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addie?" He peers into the room, his wife turned on her side, crunched into a tiny ball of a person. "Holstat said they'd bring her back and prep her, we got OR seven in an hour." He scuffles forward, afraid to burst the invisible bubble surrounding her. "Addison?"

"Go away," she orders, eyes drawn like the blinds, trying to hide the outside world.

Derek shakes his head, then realizes she can't see him and slips in next to her, body forming a protective cloak around hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

Addison tries to nudge him off, hoping he'll take the hint, but instead he holds his ground and manages to work an arm around her waist reaching up for fingers to play with. "You think I'm making the wrong decision."

"No," he answers, though aware it was not a question. "I...don't think there was anything to make a decision about...in your mind."

"Yeah," she agrees, wiggling backwards again, this time to get cozy.

"I think Lilly would want it this way."

"You do?" Addison croaks, her voice already on its way out.

"She'd want what you want, she's very attached you know." He rubs her arm soothingly and grins.

"As I am to her."

The room falls awkwardly silent, no monitors and wires telling them anything, lights dimmed for Lilly's afternoon nap gone awry. Derek can feel her heart slow, hears her breathing even out, but he's wide awake, not certain he's even blinked in the last 90 minutes. Just because you know what's coming doesn't make it any easier to accept, he reasons.

"I can't...watch," Addison tells him a few minutes later. They sat in the gallery once, when they removed Lilly's spleen, demanded that they either be down there making the cuts or somewhere that they could supervise. Instead, they got shooed off and told to sit down and shut up. She left after the first incision, Derek vomiting weakly into the waste basket next to the door as he followed. It's different when it's your child. A good lesson learned. "Will you...never mind."

"No," Derek insists, "Will I what?"

"Will you stay with me?"

"Always," he whispers charmingly, wondering if she has the energy to roll her eyes at this point.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"It's just a cold," Addison argues, her nose completely stuffed, forcing every word to sound like a foreign language to Derek.

"Addie, we...can't. She's recovering from surgery and...you know better. Just rest," he kisses the top of her head, bending over the back of the couch where's she's been in and out of consciousness for the last five hours.

"I'm better, feel." She presses his hand to her still too-hot-for-hospital head and slouches back under the green blanket Derek threw over her earlier this morning.

"You are not better," Derek officiates and jingles his key ring impatiently. He hates to leave her, never one for taking the sick thing well, but he has patients and he has to do double time today when Lilly discovers that there won't be someone always waiting for her when she wakes up from the mini-naps.

"I'll wear a mask," Addison decides immediately. It'll give her some time to come up with something else.

Derek sighs, and scoots over his wife's feet so he can take a seat. Pulling them back he softly dips his thumbs into the slow rise of her heel and begins kneading in earnest. "We can't risk it. She's gonna be all right today without you, I'll call you and...Lilly can talk to you a little too. Okay?"

Her eyes already watery, and emotions on edge from the general feeling of ick that accompanies this plague, Addison sniffles into the arm of the couch and tries to twist out of his reach feeling childish and unwanted.

"Addie," Derek grumbles, relinquishing the control he has over the lower half of her body. He hears her mumble the word 'go' and stands up obediently before dropping to his knees on the plush carpet in front of her. He strokes back her tangled red hair and places a kiss on her flushed cheek almost hoping he can catch whatever this is and spend a day at home; desiring an excuse. "We'll call you around lunch and...I'll try and send Mark by with some soup from that place off 55th you like, if he has time."

Addison nods submissively and scolds herself for wanting to cry to keep him with her in their big lonely house. She hasn't been here without him or Lilly in almost a year and the thought is frightening.

"I'll be home around eight."

She waits until she can hear the doorknob turning. "Remind Mark that I only like plain tomato, nothing in it, okay?"

"Will do," he chuckles and slides the door closed, sealing her tomb of inevitable discovery and remembrance.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

He recalls when she was two, lying securely in Addison's arms as they rushed toward the emergency room. And when she was three and the scary noises, blood draws and all around fun that came with the age. But none of the ambulance rides, or nights in waiting rooms have prepared him for this. Not his undergrad, medical school, or internship. He's seen people die, he's killed people. That's the reality of his job but he can't reconcile it with her. There's no way to put that logical line of thought in with the fact that his daughter won't be seeing the new year.

She's never looked this pale before, he's positive. Her hair has never been so dark against her skin and cherry adorned red pajamas. He watches the slow rise and fall of her chest, reveling in the steadiness and determination of her frail body. When they found out it wasn't even a question, they would fight and they would win. They never planned on being here. They didn't bank on nothing working, on random genetic deficiencies operating against their progress.

People beat this, it happens frequently. And with their background and access to medicine it was a sure bet in both their minds. Never in a million years did they believe they'd be watching from the losing side of the bench as things rapidly deteriorated. Never in his wildest dreams did Derek ever envision their child as anything but beacon of love, fun, and perpetual joy.

Lilly is only sorrow now. An almost regret in the grand scheme of things, words they can't whisper to one another, even when the situation becomes too much. But it hangs there above their never resting heads, stagnant in the dark, a bit of truth that they won't give a chance to rain down.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

She's a masochist at heart. And not that one can actually enjoy the sudden pinch and slow burn that comes with this sort of life, but Addison doesn't particularly care. Sometimes, for instance the present, she seeks it out. Because it's nice to know you are among the land of the living, that even when consumed with hurt and anger that some things can still prick and poke at you.

Addison pulls the shiny photo album out from underneath the coffee table, crosses her legs, and begins. There are no pictures of anything but a healthy (albeit unwittingly) little girl in here. The ones taken by other people with the hospital sheets and two gloomy looking parents are elsewhere, upstairs, and she doesn't want to see them. It's what she deals with every day. This is what she wants. A newborn with a crazy amount of Derek's hair, brilliant blue eyes, and teethless gums. A baby girl, her baby girl and those few precious months they were afforded before the world got thrown into the dryer for a nice tumble.

She never minded the sweaty and almost alien looking pictures of herself that begin the book, in fact she's quite proud considering the torturous delivery process that she endured. Pushing for what seemed like an eternity, wanting to scream at them for telling her she was close when she was nowhere near but then Lillian Montgomery Shepherd was finally there and it stopped. The room quieted, Addison locking in on her source of pain, and it all drifted away. She flips back and touches the fine scrawl of her daughter's name over the outside of the book. It was Derek's choice, as she was convinced she was carrying a boy for the duration, and when the time came Lillian sounded like the only reasonable option amongst the sea of everything not quite good enough.

Her hands find the edges of pages, every little square looked at for longer than necessary, feeling the sobs begin to build. There was a hope then. Lilly could have been anything. An astronaut, a zoo keeper, a ballerina. Anything, and they would support her. Dirty onesies, diapers, herself looking a glorious mess with the baby pressed to her chest while Derek went photo crazy. Then came a diagnosis. The good pictures stop about there, though not intentional, but both parents too wound up to find a camera to log the rocky times. Addison drops the album from her hands, letting it bounce on the floor, and wobbles upward to find more; to find everything that once was.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

When he comes back, between checking on post-op patients for his resident, he finds Lilly awake and the conversation he's been dreading becomes increasing mandatory. "Hey," he greets with a warm smile and does the precursory motions of checking her chart for anything new before taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

"Where's Mommy?" Lilly asks, distraught by waking alone and the funny nurse telling her that she'd page her father, not her mother.

His grin fades out quickly, the question he doesn't want to answer brought up within a matter of seconds. As he pauses to think he realizes that Lilly hasn't been alone without knowledge of where Addison was (told firsthand by the woman herself) in probably years, maybe ever. "Mommy doesn't feel good today, you're stuck with me." He tickles her feet, covered by her pale yellow "blankey" that still goes everywhere even with her climbing age, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"She's sick?" Lilly can't remember a time when her mother was ill. Granted she can't remember much of last week, but it's beside the point.

"Yeah, a little," Derek admits, and pulls the book he was accidentally sitting on out of his way. "She's okay though. She misses you. I told her we'd call her, tell her how much fun we are having." He dials the phone, waiting for an answer but all right with the voicemail he gets. He hangs up without saying anything, resolved to try again later, thinking that Addison is asleep, and taps the book. "What were you working on?"

"Letters," she explains with great ease. "Mommy says I have to stay...up."

"Caught up?" Derek wonders, wanting to scream at Addison for giving her the idea that she'll be attending a school one day. A part of his brain wants to protest how futile and ridiculous this is, teaching her anything, but he understands that it is simply what you do. How you get through every day, a waste or not.

"Yeah," she nods as vigorously as possible, hair matted because Addison hasn't been there to brush it yet today. "I can spell my name," she volunteers when his head drops to look over her eager pencil marks.

He knows because she's done it countless times before for him, but indulges her anyway. "Can you now?"

"L-i-l-i-a-n. Lillian."

"There's two L's in the middle Princess. L-i-l-l-i-a-n." He pats her head when she looks embarrassed. They've gone through this part before too. Some days he looks the other way, convinced she can just do as she pleases because she deserves it but not today.

"Why are there two?"

"That's the way Mommy and I named you," Derek shrugs and pushes the book forward where she left off. "You want to show me more?"

"No," she decides and worms her way down against the pillows crushed by her inability to impress.

"Are you hungry?" Derek changes tactics, pulling out the brown paper sack Addison gave him to bring to her. She's been back on solids for a few days but nothing really past wobbly Jell-o and gooey pudding.

"What's in there?" Her eyes widen gloriously at the new thing in her room.

"I don't know. If you're hungry we can find out," he taunts, inching the treasure closer.

"Okay!" she squeals, ripping into the sack, and finding chilled mashed potatoes (which explains to Derek what in the hell Addison was doing at three this morning when he heard noises downstairs) and little note from her mother. She unfolds the lined paper and studies it tediously before handing it to Derek. "What's it say?"

"It says: Lilly-bean, I hope your throat feels better and that you and Daddy have a good day. Miss you. I love you always. - Mommy" Derek forks over the note again, not his possession to begin with and starts to feel the perpetual tears begin to tug at his eyes.

"We should write Mommy a card," Lilly announces, pushing away the food to be stored back in the resident's lounge.

"Okay," Derek agrees and checks his watch, noting that he still has about twenty minutes. He sniffles quietly, trying not to distract her, and decides that he doesn't know which is worse. When she is asleep or when she is awake. "What kind of card?"

"A better card." She points to the windowsill in the room, littered with random notes from nurses, old friends, and family members wishing Lilly a speedy recovery with the help of balloons and million little stuffed bears. Pointless, he mocks, staring them down.

Derek pulls out the tub of crayons that lives under one of the chairs, and sets it between them, getting ready to help somehow. "You want me to write on there and then you can put your name and color it?"

"Yeah." She pulls out a coarse page of vibrant purple from her pack of construction paper and passes it to him for the hard part.

"What do you want it to say?" Derek poises the gray crayon labeled "timberwolf", the best color for the job in his mind, and waits for her instructions. They mutually agree upon 'Get Well Soon' and on the inside he helps her write her name and a small note to Addison in very shaky strokes. Then he lets go of the reigns and watches, after a few minutes lying back with his head against the bed and feet planted on the floor. He feels her lean forward and tap his stomach every once in a while for encouragement but for the most part she is immersed in her work, silent and busy.

A better child can't be found in the world, he decides moments later. Her tiny hands scribble over his sketches of flowers and clouds, filling in the marks and bringing a little something extra to the paper that has been folded in half "hamburger" style, she tells him, surely parroting something Addison has taught her. He's missed those steps and while he's always known she's intelligent, as any child or theirs would unavoidably be, he hadn't realized quite how much she's been able to learn while sitting in a hospital bed all day. He's not sure if the determination is Lilly's or his wife's but it obviously spends the time they need it to.

"Done!" she says hoarsely and tosses the card toward her father for further inspection. Upon his smiles she settles back with a large yawn.

"You sleepy?"

"No," she grins, her white teeth still crossed and trying to grow in straight, braces a certain probability.

"Uh-huh," Derek replies, overly skeptical, and peers down at his ticking watch. Every second he can't get back is right there, being held accountable. "I should get back to work-"

"Wait!" she yells as loudly as possible. "You have to read first."

Derek curses Addison silently for this tradition and then scoots up further, cradling her head on his chest as he grabs a book off the tiny table next to them. "Where are we?"

"Mary is gonna take Colin to the garden but you can't tell."

Instead of asking who Derek switches and asks, "Why?"

"It's a secret Dad," Lilly shuffles around, trying to get a good view of the fine print though she doesn't know enough of the words to read it herself.

"Ok," he complies and finds the bookmark with butterflies and a shiny pink tassel that Addison uses to keep their place in the middle of chapter 20. He readies his voice and begins at where he believes they may have left off. "_Not a human creature was to be caught sight of in the paths they took..._" He continues winding through sentences and paragraphs as his daughter clings to him enthralled with the developments. When he reaches the end of the chapter, Addison be damned for the book choice, he hesitantly places the marker back in and closes it softly. "More later okay?"

"We have a garden," Lilly begins, tiredly rubbing her eyes, causing her IV cords to get tangled.

"Lilly," Derek warns carefully. "It's a book. Gardens don't make people better, medicine does. That's why we are here, understand?"

"I want to go home."

Derek, who was busy checking his shoes for no reason, looks up instantly. Once the staff tried to get them to move Lilly to a more long-term based establishment but Addison refused. She wanted her in this hospital where they could watch her until she could be released. This recent bout has seen them here for over three months and it's definitely taken its toll on everything. "Because we have a magic garden?" he asks, attempting to gauge her motivations.

"I wanna go home," she repeats, tears beginning to build for a tantrum he doesn't want to hear.

"Lillian," Derek begins and takes a seat once again, knowing he won't be escaping as soon as he thought. "You need to be here."

"I don't like it."

"Neither do we," he assures her, stroking her tangled mess of waves. "But we have to do things we don't like sometimes."

"I'm sick," she tells him. "Like Colin."

"Not exactly," Derek corrects, not sure what little Colin is suffering from other than his own crazy headed friend Mary.

"I want to go! Now!" she demands, hands reaching for wires to yank and being pulled into Derek's lap instantly, clamped over by his large grasp as her legs start to kick, the only thing left she can do.

"I know baby, I know. But Mommy..." he stops himself from completing the sentence, not wanting to cosmically be put at odds with the stuffy surgeon at home.

Instead he holds her until she quiets, slumping back against him, sleep deep and consuming. Afraid of waking her, he slips out and leaves her half-sitting, to move on her own. He takes a deep breath, realigns his shoulders from their falling position and prepares to go diagnose people who he can save, people whose lives he can control. If he had to lay money on it, he'd bet that Addison has dealt with the outbursts already, but he doesn't envy her. He pulls out his phone again as he spins around but finds the redhead behind him, battling for control of the emotions that are all over her face. "Addie."

"She wants...to go," Addison replays. All their hard work becoming unimportant.

He pushes her back out of the doorway, the mask she was getting ready drifting to the floor. "She was upset by the book. She doesn't want- she doesn't know what she is talking about."

Addison holds up the little blue bunny by his tattered ear and offers it to Derek. "I found it...earlier...I thought she might want it."

The present, originally from Mark, had become a trademark in their home and around half of the country as they traveled to find the best programs for their daughter. They were sure that he had gotten lost somewhere in Chicago the last time they were there but instead Addison now has it around the neck, held tightly to her, tears working their way down her face. He grabs the bunny but she resists violently so he pushes her back again, this time by the hips, knowing that neither Lilly nor Addison need one another to see what will happen if she wakes up. "Let's...go..."

She made it through three photo albums before she found the boxes in the basement that needed sorting. Old clothes, toys, and things Lilly had outgrown. She was going to be proactive, prepare them to give away. They needed the space for when she came back. But she got two boxes deep and lost it, tiny shirts and socks spread out in piles, plastic toys marking another time set aside. She found Butterscotch The Bunny months ago but after the initial hysteria that followed his loss she decided not to reintroduce him and instead kept him for herself, for the nights when Derek wasn't around and she was stuck alone. "No, I need...her. She needs...Butterscotch."

"Addison, she's not missing the bunny. She's asleep. She needs to sleep," he tries to play to her more rational side, the part that once was a celebrated promising young doctor.

"No!" She shouts at him angrily, her words sounding like they end in a "B".

"You're making a scene," he says, looking around at the small gathering of people, their favorite attending among them. "Addison please."

"No," she argues. "You...please, please- I need her." She steps forward, attempting to get into the room, stopped by him in front of her again. Her flat heeled shoe stomps into the ground about the time she finds Derek's arms around her waist and they begin walking backward together slowly.

He leads her gently, searching for a good spot before too many people see her in a state of distress she will surely be apologetic of later. They land in a darkened linen closet, everyone knowing exactly where they went, Derek too caught up to find the light. He rubs her back gently as she finally lets go, murmuring about how everyone knows that sick children need their mother, and how he should have just let her in the room so they wouldn't have to be doing this, and finally how if he'll just let her in there for a minute she won't wake her up and she'll be silent and good and then go home and wait patiently. He listens respectfully, hearing it all, and breathes a sigh of relief when she crumbles and they both can slide down the wall, her clambering into his arms.

Twenty torturous minutes later she's asleep too, a task she hasn't done yet today evidently, and he grabs the only thing within his reach, a white sheet, to cover them both with while she naps against him.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I think we should consider taking her home," Derek kicks off the conversation, Addison now wide awake, eyes adjusted to the blackness enveloping them.

"We can't," he hears her say softly, rearranging her limbs so she can see him.

"She wants to be home," Derek refutes, having had the last forty minutes to figure out both sides of the pro/con list.

"She needs to be here," Addison argues, pulling away again, scooting against the tile until she reaches a rack.

"Not necessarily."

"Yes-"

"No. Listen, we can do what they do here at home. We could even..."

"Don't," Addison warns him. "Please." It doesn't need to be said aloud, she understands.

"We need to seriously reevaluate Addie and I can't do that when you shut down. Come back over here and we can talk." He reaches an arm out and waits until it hurts to hold up, at the last second feeling a grazing of flesh. "Her labs indicate..." he drifts off feeling a hand rise up under his red scrubs, pausing to play with his chest hair. Quizzically, he pushes her away and continues, "It's above and below the dia- Addison, stop that."

"What?" She mumbles, lips beginning to trace over his neck, legs strategically placed over his lap so that she can straddle him against the door.

"I'm trying to have a conversation-"

"And I am trying to take advantage of our alone time. Don't you want to Dr. Shepherd?" she breathes into his ear, hot and moist, exciting other parts of his body that he thought were firmly switched to off. When she feels his hand trace up her sides, fingers grazing the edges of her lace bra she thinks he finally may have given in but suddenly he pulls back, leaving the blue thermal shirt that belongs in his top drawer bunched up. "Derek..."

"I know what you are doing, it's not going to work." He attempts to shuffle her backwards unsuccessfully. She slumps against his shoulder, resigned to being the sick and embittered wife. "Holstat says-"

"Maybe we should try another doctor," Addison interjects softly, still uneasily wound up in his embrace.

"He's the best."

"Maybe we should try Cincinnati again."

"We can't shuttle her around the country like we did before. This isn't getting any better, and I believe it's time that we stop...treating it like it will."

"But..." Addison stalls, out of new names and hospitals that once sounded so reassuring. "Why are you giving up on us?"

"I'm not giving up," Derek replies, instantly stung by the accusatory tone she insists on using through the congestion.

"You are! You want her to die so you don't have to deal with this anymore...with us anymore."

"That's not it," Derek tells her, voice rising for the second time in a week, at the wrong person. He wants to scream and shout it out with God, with the beings that make this fucked up world and who think it's all right to take children before their parents. It's so backwards. Adults aren't meant to deal with this sense of injustice and he'd like a word with the people who think that can.

"Why don't you just leave Derek? Walk away if it's such a hassle, if we are getting in the way of your progression. I can handle it on my own." She strengthens her jaw, though quivering, and fists her hands over his shoulders as his arms clamp around her middle when she begins to protest being within ten feet of his presence.

"I love you," he mumbles softly. "And I love Lilly. So, so much. I know you're angry. I'm angry too, I just can't keep putting her through these hoops with a skewed vision of what will happen in the future. It's not fair to her, and I won't put up with it any longer. We need to take her home."

"No!" Addison demands, noisily slapping the back of his neck when he won't let go of her.

"It's time."

"Stop saying that," she insists, chilly fingers covering her ears like a child who pretends not to hear the words four inches away.

When the solid door behind him falls away, Derek is forced to follow, propping his head out into the hallway, the rest of his body firmly in the closet still. Addison looks up at Richard Webber, attending extraordinaire, humiliated and gets off her husband's lap in record time, wiping the trail of tears off as she goes.

"Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd are you aware that the entire hall can hear your conversation?"

"No," Addison murmurs feebly, watching as Derek scampers off the ground.

"You're going to wake my favorite granddaughter up and I don't appreciate any interruptions in her recovery, no matter their cause, am I understood?" He glowers at them, in charge, and rather taken aback by how they are conducting their business. They are always so in control, never discussing anything within the walls of work, so to find them like this is unsettling to say the least. "Shep, you come with me. Addison," he pats her shaking arm, "Adele is in the conference room at the end of the hall and she is expecting you. Go." He called in reinforcements because he had to, because they are close friends, and because for some reason he feels a constant need to look out for this couple, starting from their days as interns to now, well after the mentor/student boundary lines have been blurred.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Adele," Addison chokes out, after her walk of shame down the hall where nurses and fellow staff stared on with pity.

"I heard," Adele answers, holding her arms out for the hug they both need. "I'm so sorry sweetheart."

Addison's reply gets lost in the haze of Adele's unseasonably warm but still fashionable sweater, the soft fabric tickling her face, serving as a gutter to capture all of the moisture that flows freely from both their eyes.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Shepherd sit down," Richard instructs pointing to the chair next to him.

Derek continues paces despite his warning, hands weaving in and out of the dark waves on his head, the very ones that match another set down the hall. He scrubs his face and lets out a large breath. There's no explaining the sudden urge to bolt, the ongoing desire to just run until his legs give out and he's face down in the asphalt. Sometimes he wonders how far he could get.

"I can't do this," Derek answers.

"You can and you will," Richard replies with authority. "They need you, and more importantly you need them. I've seen you when Addison goes out of town, you can hardly find a matching sock to save your life. Lilly-"

"I can't," his voice carries across the room as he picks up speed. "Oh God, I'm going to be sick."

"You're internalizing Derek. Let it out, deep breaths," Richard coaches, tone now somber and soulful. He watches the younger man perch himself on the arm of a couch and begin rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his own waist. "Stop thinking about it. Look at me. Look. At. Me." Richard waits until he does patiently, "Good."

"Wha-what am I...she needs to be home...Add-ie will never...agree. She wants...to go home. It's time Richard."

"I know," Richard nods sorrowfully. He, among the many, never saw this day coming. The staff won't dare impose and send Lilly home to die but he feels like it's his place, if one or the other actually feels it is finally right. "It's gonna be all right Derek. You can do this, you can."

Derek shakes his head angrily. "Addison won't. She'll divorce me...and take Lilly bef-"

"She would never do that," Richard corrects. "It's a rough day today. Maybe tomorrow will be easier. You have to go slow."

"We don't have time to go slow! We don't have time!" Derek yells, rising from his spot and running the room enraged again.

Richard asserts his full height to his advantage and pushes on the young neurology trainee's shoulder. "It's enough for today Derek. That's enough."

Derek sniffles loudly, and races for the door handle. "I can't." The comfort is not welcome. He can dish it out but he can't take it.

"Shepherd!" Richard yells as he exits. "Derek!"

"I can't...I can't...I can't," Derek repeats, chanting to himself as he heads for the elevator, thoughts scattered, chest aching.

His legs pump wildly, lungs burning viciously in the hot summer heat as the overwhelming urge finally gains enough strength to be tested out on the streets of Manhattan. There is no time to wait anymore.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

**A/N2:** Notice the sudden chapter total change? I feel my inability to outline will be a problem somewhere in the future but for now there's another part. I hope you all can continue to bear with me. :)


	3. Repose In Blue

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
Repose In Blue  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

His feet feel anything but sturdy as they whisk him away from Richard, from the callings of his own name. There's a distinct rumbling in his stomach as it tries to tie itself into knots and a stab to the heart as he passes by Addison in his quest for the elevator. She'll understand, he tells himself, jabbing at the floor level button seconds later.

She'll understand.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

If she had to describe it, Addison would relate the current happenings as an out of body experience. It's as though she's hovering above herself, watching her own cheeks fall grimly when Derek runs by. Staring as the moisture in her eyes begins to build for the hundredth time that day. She feels someone numbly grab at her shoulder as she tries to rush after him, but she isn't quick enough and she's left with a slice of purple construction paper that floated to the ground from her husband's lab coat pocket as a consolation prize for her weak efforts.

"Addison," Mark repeats, startling her out of whatever trance she's in.

"He left," she murmurs perfunctorily.

"He'll come back," Mark answers soundly. "He always comes back. Just...give him some time."

"Yeah," Addison nods slowly, tracing over her husband's handwriting on the makeshift card. She flips the page open with a shaky gasp and partakes in her daughter's amateur drawings, things she knows are butterflies and trees, clouds and a vibrant orange sun. Strong hands are leading her down the hallway but she doesn't look up, she doesn't know if it's Mark or Richard or Adele. She turns to the back of the paper and smiles at Derek's goofy trademark-like logo.

"She made me a card," Addison whispers to whoever is one step behind her.

Mark looks over the redhead's shoulder for a moment, chest clenching when he reads the carefully penned 'Get Well Soon'. He chooses to divert, one of his specialties. "Come on Houdini, let's get you back home."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Funnily enough his feet carry him to the subway, which involuntarily links him back to the brownstone and he's home thirty minutes before Mark stumbles into the foyer with his wife. Thirty minutes that he desperately needed, thirty minutes that look like they have been horrifying for her. He notes the violet shaded paper in her frustrated clutch and curses himself for not being more thoughtful. It was never supposed to make it to her obsessive hands. He was going to burn it, or at least throw it away at the hospital somewhere she would never see it.

In hindsight he feels a little like an ass for thinking of taking something like that away from her, but at the time it seemed like a good plan. He felt like he was saving her from something, back then.

He used to feel like he could save them all and the battle that comes with realizing you aren't enough has been nothing short of brutal for all of them.

"Hey...man," Mark sputters and shuts the door loudly behind them. He hesitates for about a quick minute before turning back around and leaving the tension filled room, headed straight for the bar down the street without so much as a goodbye to either party.

"I'm...sorry about before Addie. I needed to get some air." He kicks off the conversation as she slouches against the banister a few feet away, still immersed in the card.

"You think I don't need air Derek?"

"What?" He replies, her question coming too late to understand.

"You think I don't need space, a time away from everything that is happening?"

"I-I'm sure you do-"

"It's not a time to be selfish," Addison says softly, voice devoid of accusations and cut throat tactics.

"I'm sorry," is all Derek manages to get out before jumping up to pour himself a strong drink. He's firm in the decision that returning to work probably wouldn't be a good idea, and if he's going to be stuck here all evening he's going to need some sort of magical potion.

"I don't want to bring her home to die," Addison sniffles, because of the cold, her tears a long lost counterpart in the fights constantly being waged when she's around him.

"I don't think we have a choice anymore," Derek tells her, slipping into a chair and facing the other wall. It seems easier to converse when they aren't looking at one another. He finds a family photo to stare at while she picks at the edges of the green carpet running over the wooden steps. "I don't want to fight with you Addie. It's hard enough as it is."

"I can't give up." She's set in one mode, survival. "If we bring her home, we give up. We stop. I...can't live with that Derek. I can't throw everything away and sit around waiting for her to..."

"Die," he fills in, voice guttural and aching. "You would rather she die in a hospital, in a bed she doesn't know-"

"She doesn't know her own room! She hasn't seen it for months."

"Thanks to you," Derek retorts instantly.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks to me, thanks to me who wants our daughter to keep living. Thanks to me who doesn't want to lose the hope you seem to have tossed away-"

"It's foolish! And pointless," he tacks on thoughtfully, happy he can't see how much she is hurting. "It's a shame...and a waste."

"Our daughter is not a waste, but I'm glad to hear you confirm how you really feel about all of this for once."

He hears the bedroom door slam forty seconds later and gets up from the couch, heading into the hot, stale breeze of the city without an ounce of reluctance to leave her alone, presumably sobbing into the brown comforter they both love.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you tonight," Mark smarts off, taking another long pull of his beer, and settling against the barstool to watch the Yankees try and manage another win on the road to fall playoffs.

"Yeah." Derek orders and takes the seat next to his long time best friend in the dimly lit bar, neon and peanuts settling his stomach.

"Top of the fifth," Mark tells him, just in case he's decided not to read the television he seems to enthralled with. He waits a few minutes, finishing his drink, before turning slightly with a grimace. "Want to talk about it?"

"No," Derek nods and taps his feet on the ground impatiently. "She's just...she's so angry Mark. Permanently angry about...everything. I don't know how to...do anything with her anymore. It's all so much harder than I thought it would- never mind. How's Jeter doing tonight?"

"Aren't you too?" Mark questions, ignoring the baseball talk for a few seconds.

"Aren't I what?" Derek asks, turning to face him for the first time all evening.

"Angry," Mark says casually. He's found himself more upset in the course of the last few months than he would ever admit, sometimes even sneaking off to check on Lilly when he knows someone is there with her.

Derek's mouth falls open to speak but nothing comes out. He pauses, tongue darting out to taste his chapped lips. "Not anymore."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"It's time Derek. No one is gonna hold it against you for taking a while off. Everyone knows the situation," Richard carefully explains as his almost star squirms around in front of him.

"I can work," Derek argues, legs trying to carry him upward in protest.

"I know you can work, you've proven it over and over but now is the time for family. Time to be home." Richard lifts the blue pen on the edge of his desk to sign a few papers that will notify everyone of the immediate dismissal of Derek C. Shepherd for an indeterminate amount of days. "There's no shame in this. You'll go where you are needed. You will do as you are told."

"Glad to see I have some say in the matter," Derek rolls his eyes and huffs, back sinking into the finely crafted chair.

"When are you taking her home?"

"Hasn't been discussed."

"Derek-"

"Richard-"

"Do you want to me to talk to Addie? Try and reason with her?" Richard offers, sliding the papers over for Derek to review and sign.

What Derek doesn't need is interference. He's resound in the fact that he can handle his own life, his own wife. And if he can't, then the rest of the employees here need be no part of it. "No."

"I can have Adele-"

"It's between us. All of us," he sighs, mind falling toward Lillian downstairs, probably forcing Addison to read to her until she can no longer keep her eyes open. They stopped treatments a few weeks back, waiting on a prayer that something that worked would come along, but there's no sign of a miracle and there's no indication that she'll be living long enough to invest in other alternatives. And while they're aren't as many medications trying to ruin her body so it can build itself back up, there is one hell of a disease running its course and leaving her fatigued on the good days.

"Get to it then," Richard advises, clapping a strong hand to the seated man's shoulder.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I'm off effective today but I'd like to wait until the end of the week," he tells Holstat, as they march down the hallway to spread the "good" news. "I need some time for transition and I don't imagine Addison is going to be very receptive to the idea."

"No," Dr. Holstat agrees with a shake of the head. From his dealings with her, and what he's heard she's not one to give up on medicine. "End of the week sounds like a plan."

"Plan for what?" Addison interrupts, though by them joining the room she deems it fair play. She watches her husband scoot onto the bed with their daughter, legs swinging off the edge.

"Hey Lilly," Derek smiles and pulls the plastic lilac horse out of her hands. "Daddy has something he needs to talk to you about, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees easily, liking the look on her father's face, eager to hear something besides big words from the book on her mother's lap, a medical journal.

"Remember a little while ago when you said you wanted to go home?"

"Yeah," she nods, mouth brightening.

"Well, we all think that is a good idea. What do you say about going home on Friday?"

"Okay!" she squeals, and dives forward half an inch into Derek's lap, just as Addison feels like her airways are being collapsed.

"We can do the paperwork beforehand, that sound good?" Dr. Holstat breaks into the party, looking over Lilly's recent stats.

"Yes, thank you," Derek replies with a firm handshake to follow and the distinct urge to keep away from Addison's surrounding area for as long as humanly possible. He strokes his daughter's back soothingly as she cuddles into his legs and keeps his eyes down, her presence is already beginning to burn a hole in his back.

"Can I get a puppy now?" Lilly asks, looking at both parents.

"Uh- I don't know if a puppy is a good idea right now, but maybe. Mommy and I will talk about it," Derek assures her as Addison groans in absolute disagreement.

"And we can play in the garden?"

"Sure," Derek nods, glancing at the pager that won't be buzzing for God knows how long on his hip.

"And go to the park?"

"Whatever you want," Derek quiets her, and arranges her against the fluffy pillows to rest. "Get some sleep though, for now. I'll be back in a bit." He kisses her forehead lightly and exits the room without a spoken syllable to his wife.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Add-" Derek stops short, seeing the trail of smoke lingering in the early dusk air. He finally resigned himself to heading home an hour ago, and he wasn't sure she'd be here. "This is what you're doing now?" He asks reaching for the burning cigarette. The smoke burns his nostrils as he trails closer but she spins away and takes another drag. "Fine, you're angry. I understand that. And you have every right-"

"Apparently I have no rights," she snorts and then turns back to her soothing magic. She hasn't smoked for years, with the exception of every now and again, but the present is looking like a damn fine time to take it up permanently. Most people do, it wouldn't be that terribly hypocritical, except that bit about being a doctor.

"We were never going to agree!" He shouts at her and reaches for the burning ashes again, this time too slow. She flicks the end and then drops it to the concrete to smash out with the point of her heel. He's pretty sure every man in Manhattan would be incredibly turned on, but now is inappropriate. "I did what I had to!"

"Congratulations," she whispers, voice tainted with a noxious residue, and leaves him to the setting sun and honking horns that are their constant atmosphere.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

She's tracing over the name on the page before her as Holstat rambles off things to Derek, because she is clearly not paying any attention. Release forms, instructions, and waivers litter the table. All with her husband's scrawl finely printed across the bottoms; his initials filling in blanks on the side.

Do Not Resuscitate.

She's seen it a hundred times before, and stringently followed its orders, but this is different. It's her child's name above the mandate, her palms that will be focused on not pressing into her baby's chest. Addison's not positive that she will be able to stop herself; she hopes Derek won't be able to either. But they'll sign it, because it's end-of-life care time and no one is bothering to think of other options. They gave it a good run, and evidently it's over.

Fingers fall over the name again and she takes a deep breath, resetting, becoming more professional. She looks up with waning interest and tries to follow along. "Could you give us a minute?" she asks Holstat and watches as he graciously, and thankfully she thinks, removes himself and flees.

"I think it's a good idea," Derek fights back immediately, never knowing which stance to take with her. Since Tuesday all they've done is avoid each other and stare off into space. They pick small fights and yell over trivial things like the laundry not being properly separated, Derek forgetting the dry cleaning yet again, and Addison bursting into tears when he throws away a long dead plant that she thought she could save. It's not about the whites vs. darks or socks, shirts or dead blooms, but they aren't ready to talk yet either so they shelf it.

"I want a ceremony," she squeaks, never really having any thoughts on the matter before now. It's a knee-jerk reaction, and one she is standing firm on. They may be bringing her home, and she may be dying, but there will be no body donated to science. They're doctors and she respects the learning that can occur but there's no way in hell someone will be prodding her daughter...after.

"We can still-"

"No," she says loudly, meaning business. She picks up a pen and signs every single piece of paper in front of her, without looking because it hurts too much, and then shoves them back toward him, grinning when a few get caught up in the air and float to the ground.

The door slams on her way out and she never imagined anything would feel quite as victorious as that.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison finds herself in the kitchen, barefoot, stirring broth for Lilly the same evening. She hasn't done this for so long- cooked with the purpose of doing anything other than letting it get cold and then throwing it away. It feels nice. It feels good to have someone else in the house again, it's warmer.

The family that decorates the walls is back, and the home sends her a celebratory 'well done' with its coziness.

She ladles out a few spoonfuls into a white bowl and grabs the lightly toasted bread, adding a touch of strawberry jam. Lilly wanted pizza, Addison thought it may disagree with her newly released stomach. And she doesn't need a night of cleaning puke and holding a crying four year old. The wooden tray in her hands shakes, reminding her of the nerves that are still coursing through her veins. She's not sure the worry is every going to dissipate, she wonders if she'll ever feel okay with leaving Lilly in a room alone. There's been monitors and nurses for so damn long she feels inadequate, as usual.

"Hey," she smiles flatly as she stumbles into Lilly's room, upstairs just down the hall from her own. "Dinner time."

"Where's mine?" Derek jokes at the same time as Lilly voices her disapproval of Addison's meal choice. "Guess I'll just have to eat this then," he says taking a bite of the toast he loathes. Strawberry is not his thing, it belongs to Addison and Lilly.

"Wait!" Lilly screeches and reaches for his hand. Addison pushes her shoulder back down against the cream colored pillows, wanting to keep her as stationary as possible, out of fear for what could happen.

"Oh, you want it now?" Derek asks her, and hands over the bread while she pouts.

"I wanted pizza," Lilly reminds him.

"Mom said no. Maybe tomorrow."

Sometimes Addison hates to watch their interactions. They're their own little club, always meshing so flawlessly, leaving her on the outskirts. Derek's never not been a good father, no one ever questioned his skills like she does her own. Part of her thinks she is unnecessarily hard on herself but she never had much of an example to go off, and she found her instincts to be soundly lacking. She's fought for every bit of ability she has, learning the hard way, Derek always laughing in the distance when she got spit up in her hair, or lost another piece of jewelry to Lillian's grabby hands.

She listens as they discuss the park tomorrow, and watches as he picks up the book from her nightstand, many things close by her reach so she doesn't try and go flying down the stairs to find anything. Addison isn't sure how long she can keep her confined, now that there are no wires, but it doesn't hurt to try.

Derek tucks Butterscotch under Lilly's arm, kisses her forehead, then wishes her a goodnight and sweet dreams. Addison finally rises from her silent chair to the side of the bed, set up similarly to the hospital for no reason other than familiarity and repeats the motions, taking time to snuggle her drowsy child for a touch longer.

There won't be many more bedtimes.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

The pills that make her more comfortable coincidentally also make her sleep more, not that Addison minds. As long as she keeps breathing, Lilly can sleep all she wants, but it does make things slightly more awkward with Derek. Tension laces the room, waiting for them to cut the wire, and they spend hours on end watching television on a small screen in Lilly's room, paying close attention to the stupid stories long after she's gone to bed.

"Why don't you just yell at me and get it over with?" Derek asks, eyes still facing a redheaded mermaid and her sea creature friends.

"It is over with, obviously." She points to Lilly, clad in plaid, long sleeve pajamas even though it's the end of July. "You win."

"Not about winning Addison," Derek snarls and finally the walls begin to crumble down. "You can be mad at me, that's fine, but it had to be done. I know you know that and I know you couldn't so...I did."

"Yay you," Addison retorts childishly, her emotions beginning to get the best of her. It was easier to be a strong front in the hospital. It was impersonal. This is her carpet and her chair and the tears roll easily down her cheeks.

"Addison, don't do that," he scolds, her sniffles distracting him, making his body fight the urge to go scoop her up and rub her back.

She straightens her quivering jaw, and settles her aching chest within a few seconds, attempting to appease him. Heaven forbid he should have to deal with them both.

He eventually turns to face her, nose red, tale-tell streaks down her splotchy cheeks. "I need you...you have to say it was right," he instructs. He's long since given up soothing his own anxieties. He needs her validation, the sooner the better.

"I can't," she gulps, and dashes out the door, searching for the real world and a hot afternoon to smoke her problems away.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"She worries me," Derek laments, taking a small break in the afternoon to join Mark downstairs for the game. He asked his friend to come because the thought of being gone when and if something does happen is completely ungraspable. There's no clear way that they'll be getting groceries or other necessities but none of that has been thought through just yet.

"She worries everyone," Mark replies with a nod to his beer before taking another long sip. It's not exactly like hanging out and watching chicks on the side but the alcohol is cold and the service isn't bad in the brownstone.

"I meant Addie," Derek corrects him without looking over. Everyone is either worried about Lilly or has already given up and is now waiting for something to finally occur. He can't say he doesn't feel challenged himself. The back-and-forth is soul destroying and every time she hiccups Derek thinks of the worst.

Mark would speak up and say that she's Addison and that she'll be fine but he's not that person and frankly, he doesn't take a lot of stock in things turning out one way or another. Instead he keeps quiet and waits for elaboration.

"She's smoking, and she won't eat. I haven't seen her sleep for more than an hour in days and when she does she is curled up in that chair in Lilly's room. I thought...I thought this was the right choice, for Lilly. I didn't think it would be like this on Addison."

"What were you expecting?" Mark asks, fully aware of how dense Derek can be. "Her to dance around with glee and jump back into normal family life?"

"I thought this would be...better," Derek sighs.

"Maybe it is. Doesn't mean it's not hard."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I don't want it," Addison resists and shoves the plate back across the table toward Mark the next day, Derek planted upstairs playing 'farm' with their daughter. She wishes that Lilly was able to head out to Connecticut once more and see the family horses; it always made her so happy.

She finds herself thinking a lot about the things her daughter will never do again, and tries to take stock in the things that are still available- hugs and giggles, short trips to the park and movie nights.

"Just eat something so Derek will stop moping," Mark says back crisply, hand not letting the sandwich out of her view.

"I don't care."

"I do," Mark insists, making sure to catch that vulnerable note in his gruff voice, trying to appeal to her in a different way.

"Fine," Addison caves, taking one small bite of the turkey on wheat, and then pushes it away again when her stomach rolls within.

"Atta sport," Mark cheers her on sarcastically. He can tell she's lost weight, he can tell she's smoking again, and the dark circles under her eyes do not do her justice. But all in all, it's not really his place so he lounges back against the wooden chair and challenges her to try and walk away without consuming at least half of what's in front of them.

Then, as her fingers reach forward once more, he finds a spark of bravery. "Cut Derek some slack-"

"Don't," Addison interrupts. "You...don't- I'm serious Mark."

"Fine," he snarls haughtily and then excuses himself from babysitting duty to join his best friend upstairs. They'll more than likely end up playing brother cows or Mark will be the uncle farmer, either way it's better than being in her company when she shuts down like this. There are days and hours when Addison Montgomery-Shepherd is the last person in the world he would like to spend a meal with, and they seem to be increasing in frequency.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Children often times don't understand death as we do," the woman in front of Derek explains calmly. "But they sense things. Lillian is not completely in the dark about what is happening and you should talk with her, both you and your wife."

"Yeah," Derek gulps. He doesn't know why he thought this was a good idea but they needed help and it's coming in the form of this angelic looking sixty year-old grandma three feet away. Clearly this is not her first time. The company said she was very accomplished and caring, and he can completely echo the sentiment.

"Tears are part of the process Mr. Shepherd," Nurse Dorothy tells him. "It's okay to cry and it's okay to cry in front of your daughter. You're human, this is how we process grief."

Derek nods, the words stuck in his constricting throat. It's like heaven opened up and sent him a person who understands...everything, because she's seen it before. She's lived it. She's been there for the worst days of people's lives, and held their hand fearlessly. "I- thank you."

"I'm happy to help," she replies genuinely. "I'd like to check up on Lillian, today, if you don't mind. I know both you and your wife are accomplished doctors but it will help us all establish a better sense of what is happening. Then, we'll discuss more treatment options, review her last doctor's appointments, make a schedule, and make sure Lillian is as comfortable as possible when the time comes."

"How-," Derek stumbles, face cast downward, "How do you know? "

Dorothy finds the man in front of her struggling, and while every case is difficult, especially with children, she has a feeling this one will be particularly affecting for all. "You just do."

"Derek-" Addison stops dead in her tracks, evaluating the older woman seated comfortably in her living room. "What are- Hello, I'm Addison Shepherd." Her hand extends automatically and is received in a welcome manner.

"My name is Dorothy Wells, with VNSNY."

Addison's eyes trail up to the heavily embroidered emblem on the older woman's sweater. "Hospice," she says softly looking to Derek. They don't need this. They're surgeons for God's sake. They could cut Lilly open, take everything out and then put her back together, if need be, probably on the kitchen table if push came to shove.

"Visiting Nurse Services," Dorothy replies. It's the same but sometimes it helps people feel better to know this isn't some charity thing, but a legitimate business trying to ensure no one dies alone, afraid, and in pain. "I was just speaking with Derek about possibly meeting Lillian today, if you have any questions Mrs. Shepherd-"

"Get out," Addison orders and turns toward the front door that she recently closed, thinking she was walking into an entirely different space, unaware that Derek had spent his afternoon betraying her again after he demanded that she go get groceries instead of having them delivered. What a clever trick, and she is the fool once more, but not for long.

"Addie-" Derek rises, putting himself between them instantly, frightened of what she can do in this mode.

"Get out of my house now."

"Mrs. Shepherd, I understand this is difficult, but I assure you-"

"I pay you," Addison addresses her. "Therefore I tell you what to do. Now get out."

Derek's face crumples in disgust, but before he can reprimand her Dorothy is removing herself from the situation. "Dorothy-"

"All is well Derek, please call again if you need me," Dorothy tells him, giving Addison a cordial nod on her way.

As soon as the door latches Derek spins around with the fury of a hurricane. "Uncalled for, and rude. Where do you think you get off-"

"How dare you!" Addison shouts over him. "How dare you invite someone into our home, into Lilly's life without consenting me first. If I wanted someone to coddle me and say it was going to be alright then I would've hired someone by now-"

"Maybe I need someone!" he yells back, feet beginning to pace in front of her. "I'm trying to do my best for my daughter and I think that we need-"

"No!"

"You have to listen-"

Addison tries to pass by him to retrieve the bags of rotting food from her trunk but he cuts her off abruptly. "Move, Derek. I am not in the mood for your stupid games."

"I'm not playing a game Addison. You will call Dorothy and you will apologize, and then...we will do this. We'll do this, all of us."

"We don't need her!" Addison tells him loudly, her voice still prepared to battle, loving the satisfaction she gets from her shrill tone bouncing back off the walls.

"Yes, we do," Derek demands, taking her fidgeting hand. "Maybe you don't want her, but we need someone Addie. We need help."

Addison yanks her limb away victoriously and glares at him soundly. "You got to bring her home, that's enough." She slams the door loudly on her out, knowing that she'll be back in within a matter of minutes but still wanting to do something about the mess she's found herself in.

Her fingers find the shiny silver lighter halfway around the block, and she doesn't look back.

Derek's sunk into the chair, head buried in his hands, at his wit's end with his wife. There were instances where her snobbery would shine through, and this was one of their not-so-proud moments, but he could fix it. He will fix it.

"Daddy?" Lilly squeaks from the middle of the stairs, playful eyes peaking through the banister.

"Hey Pumpkin, how you feel?"

"Sleepy," she answers with a yawn and then shuffles down the stairs to wiggle her way into her father's lap. "Why were you yelling at Mommy?"

"Just a fight," he attests and plays with a few wild curls by the base of her neck as she begins to dose off once more. "She'll be back soon."

An hour later, well after Lilly gives way to sleep, Derek finds himself chanting the same four words over and over.

~-~-~-~-~-~

"Montgomery residence," a thickly accented voice answers the line.

"I'm-this is Addison," she begins, never sure if anyone is aware of who she is. "Is my father available?" She hears shoes clicking on the marble before the slight static of a room change.

"Hello?"

"Hi...D-dad," Addison stutters, to his immediate displeasure.

"Addison," he replies distastefully.

"Libby said you were in Europe," she explains quickly, her once nanny Lillian's pseudo namesake. The only person in their revolving cabinet of maids, nannies and secretaries that she is positive her father never laid a hand on; never got knocked up and then fired with a lifelong support line.

"We are," he confirms with a sense of urgency in his voice. He has a tee time in two hours to get to.

"I was...hoping or wondering when you were planning on coming back." She twists a lock of hair around her fingers and twirls until it's knotted and angry.

"We just got here," he tells her truthfully. "You'd have to ask your mother anyway. Bizzy! Phone!"

"No!" Addison shouts down the empty funnel. It's a lost cause. Her life is full of them these days.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Addison darling, how are you? Did you hear about Cherise Abernathy?"

Addison sighs at the sharp trill of her mother's voice, her toes beginning to arch and cringe on their own. "When are you coming back?"

"Not for some time. The summer truly is beautiful here, you and Derek should have joined us this year, the crops brought in an excellent-"

"I...could you maybe come back early?"

"What ever for?" Bizzy asks, letting her cocktail slide out of its container and down her parched throat.

"Lillian's birthday is August 13th and we wanted to throw a party that weekend."

"You want us to come back for a silly birthday party? A bunch of loud children running around in pointed hats, hyped up on sugar. I think we'll pass. "

"It's not silly. She's turning five," the last age she'll get Addison silently thinks.

"Addison-"

"Mother," Addison answers back sharply, letting the weight of the word weigh them both down. "I would appreciate it if you could be here, both of you. We think...this is her last birthday. I want everyone together. Please," Addison begs for the first time in her life, going the distance for her own child.

"Oh Addison," her mother laughs with the alcohol in her clouded system. "You can always have another child Sweetheart. This isn't the end-all, be-all of birthdays."

The next thing they both hear is the dial tone. Bizzy returns to the patio to enjoy the delicious Italian sun while Addison is watching the broken pieces of her cell phone come to a rest on the floor.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison?" Derek questions, poking his head into the room after hearing a loud crash. He tiptoes over the shattered glass of what was once a vase they received for their engagement, and finds her ransacking the closet, reorganizing with fervor. "Addie, what happened?"

"Leave me," she pleads, yanking down on of his dress shirts and causing the wooden hanger to buckle under the pressure of her clenched hands. She tosses it to the floor and stamps into the bathroom. There she swiftly swipes everything on the counter off onto the tile.

"What are you- stop!" he orders, and pulls an arm away from the drawer she's reaching for.

"Go away!" She yells back without thought. "Get the hell away from me!"

Derek's confusion comes secondary to the magenta dress wearing little girl in the doorway.

"Mommy you are so loud."

Addison feels her heart bottom out when she sees Lilly frightened a few feet away. "Sorry Lilly-bean, Mommy's sorry. Come here." She pulls her up, hugging her tight and nearly sprints from the room. The only thing that extinguishes her fury is Lilly, a cascading waterfall of much needed distraction.

Once she's settled however, well into another nap, Derek manages to nab her and push her into the dining room, furthest from Lilly's space upstairs. "What happened in there?"

"Nothing," Addison replies sulking, toying with the back of a chair as he faces off across the table.

"You broke our vase." He crosses his arms over his chest seriously and focuses the weight of his body on one foot.

"Sorry," she apologizes sarcastically.

"I don't give a damn about the stupid vase, you know that. I want to know what happened."

"I overreacted is all," Addison tells him, hoping this can just die before she bursts into tears again. They seem to come and go in spurts, and she's trying to hide it all away, the hurt but it seems to explode from within in short sputters.

Derek holds up the two main parts of her now disabled cell phone as exhibit A. "Something caused this and we can stand here for as long as you want."

"Bizzy," Addison caves and then drops her face, slumping into the chair she pulled out.

"Addie, I could have called her," Derek says softly. Family is a very tender topic with Addison and while he has most of her skeletons, he knows there are others in the closet that deeply and profoundly affect his wife. She keeps them as her burden but he's never particularly enjoyed watching her struggle through them. "I would have."

"My family," she mutters inaudibly.

"Did she say something?" Derek asks, she always says something. He started grading them on a scale a while back. He has a ominous feeling this will top the chart.

"Nothing specific."

"I'm sorry," Derek says, feeling the need to constantly give her something more in the face of her awkward and challenged family. Sometimes he feels guilty for having had what he had growing up, missing father and all. Fleetingly he hopes that Grandpa can maybe watch out for his girl until he can get to wherever it is that they are all inevitably headed.

"It's fine, I'll just...find a new phone and...we can buy another vase. I shouldn't have thrown it."

Derek rounds the table, palms coming to a rest on her shoulders, lips dipping down to press a quiet kiss to the back of her neck. He toys with her hair and soothes her back for a few minutes before he can feel her begin to relax.

"They aren't coming. They're in Italy and they're too busy apparently. And Archer won't pick up his phone when I call anymore. He hates sick people."

"Oh," Derek whispers just above her ear. He watches her fall forward, elbows stopping on her knees, hand hanging, gasping for breath as the emotional tidal wave rolls once more.

"She said that there would be other parties, that we could...simply have a-another child."

He slides her easily off the chair and feels her begin to sob against him, making out every other word. Half under the table, limbs uncomfortably tangled together, he holds her until the shaking subsides into deep controlled breaths, tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I love you," is all he can sacrifice up as a condolence.

"Love you too," Addison mumbles sheepishly, her meltdown obviously embarrassing and unwanted.

"It'll be a good party."

"Yeah."

Instead of taking the calm time to talk rationally with her he chooses to say, "We need to stop letting Lilly see us fight. That's not good for anyone."

"I don't want to fight anymore," Addison answers, feeling her body begin to tighten again despite her words, preparing for the next showdown with anyone but her husband. "We're supposed to be a team Derek."

"I know," he replies, and he does know that, it's just difficult with her determined to do everything on their own. He kisses her once more and then leans back against a table leg, their combined weight making it scoot back slightly against the ornate rug they rest on. "We'll talk about it."

They never do, instead a silent agreement is reached not to yell inside, and to bottle up all of the anger and resentment, sadness and guilt they feel for the greater good of the household.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Lillian's not one hundred percent on the day of her party, but then again they've never seen her at that level. They've had a few scares here and there, the most recent landing them back in a hospital per Addison for half the day, but there is nothing that will stop her from making sure her daughter has the best birthday ever. She patiently winds Lilly's unruly waves into french braids and fastens the yellow ribbon she choose to match her fluffy dress at the curled ends. "Stop squirming or I can't finish," Addison warns her.

"Are you done now?" Lilly asks after a few minutes of being still.

"Not yet."

"Everyone is gonna be there?"

"Yes," Addison answers, working her way back up to a loose section and redoing it properly. She hasn't had much time to play with Lilly's hair lately and she's sorely out of practice.

"Daddy said there is a horsey."

"There might be," Addison confirms, remembering the money they had to throw down for a basic pony ride. Licenses, company release forms, it went on and on. But it will be worth it.

"And I can ride as much as I want?"

"We have to give other people turns too. Your cousins will want to ride."

"'kay," Lilly agrees and begins swinging her anxious feet over the chair once more. "Is Uncle Mark comin'?"

"Yes," Addison answers again, waiting for her to run down the list of party guests individually.

"There's my girls," Derek greets, slipping in from the mess of people that wanted to meet at their home before heading to the park. "Nice dress Lil. And you don't look so bad either," Derek tacks on, enjoying Addison's slimming body in a tight little number he didn't know she owned.

"Gee thanks," Addison smiles, the look wearing well on her for once. Nothing will happen today, the world isn't that cruel.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"I think..." Addison poses, clambering on top of her husband who resides on the couch (trying to catch a moment of quiet after a busy day of family and cake). "We should have another."

"Horse?" Derek jokes, stilling her fueled reactions.

"Child," she says as her fingers reach for more shirt buttons.

"No," Derek answers more sternly than intended. It stops her dead though, hands flattening against his chest. "Addie, no." It's non-negotiable at this point.

"Why?"

"Our hands are full right now as it is, we can't...we won't make it through another pregnancy. Why would you even-"

"I was reading Mayes' article in-"

"She doesn't have that kind of time Honey," Derek shushes her from explaining the new medical procedure and her analysis of how Baby Shepherd #2 could save their world. It's too risky, and no child should be born into that.

"She might," Addison argues instinctively. And she could, it's hard to gage, she's too close to the situation to see the truth anymore."Maybe Bizzy was right."

He'd like to shake her until the spectacled clouds of confusion come to a halt, throw her in the dryer and see if she can possibly come out unwrinkled with hope. The ideas of a mad woman are driving him toward the edge, and the admittance that her mother could ever be accurate about anything involving their lives or children in general is way off base. "Bizzy is never right...and we aren't going to make a...substitution."

"It could save her!" She reaches a hand down for the poignant article she's been pouring over for days. It may work, just a small transplant, they could at least attempt it after both of their genes failed to help.

"It won't," he assures her, brushing a chunk of red behind her ear and letting her lay down against him.

"We have to try," Addison whimpers a few minutes later, the flickering light of the television grabbing her attention.

"Addison, there is no more trying. You know that. I want to enjoy our time at home with her, that's the point in this."

"I never agreed to bring her home-"

"You signed-"

"Like I had a choice in that room."

He waits until a commercial comes, both watching baseball highlights, Addison completely lost. "It kills me to watch her suffer. I'm doing everything I can think of but you keep pushing me away. I can't force you to accept...it, but I can ask...I want us to be a family for her, a better family. Okay?"

"We are-"

"We aren't right now. We argue constantly, working against each other's progress. We need to be together, united," Derek tells her, as if she has no clue about what is happening to them. It's painful, all of it, but death is nearing their street and he will not be able to handle that without his wife. To lose both of them is unimaginable. "You need to give up the fight, please. For her Addie, you need to let her go."

"I can't," she says instantly. If it was an option she may have considered it.

"I can't do this without you," Derek confides.

Unfortunately Addison feels better equipped in this without him at her side. "I don't want to do this at all."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison painstakingly applies a bit more lotion to the bottom of Lilly's drying feet, begging and pleading with whoever is out there to let her child wake up from this recent spell. Her thumbs smooth over the soft skin carefully, making sure her tiny pink toes get attention as well. Derek's finally passed out on the other side of the room after staying awake for over a day waiting to see if Lilly would wake up for more than ten minutes at a time. To see if she could answer them without being completely disorientated.

Addison adjusts the tubes of the oxygen machine that are providing Lilly with better air and sighs. It's been downhill since the birthday, as if she was waiting for that, and is now content to give out. "I'm sorry," she whispers to the darkened room, hands automatically winding into her sleeves awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," she says softly again, chin trembling. "I just...thought...then that a baby would be too much but you aren't too much, you weren't. I didn't know. I was selfish. I should've stayed at home longer, I should've worked less. Maybe we could have caught it sooner." She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand, atoning for all of her sins, just in case. "I could have been better, I'm sorry."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Derek awakens to the sound of his wife's cries across the room, a rambling speech about how she never wanted a child, and how wrong she was. It's news to him, but in hindsight, he shouldn't be surprised. Addison was uninvolved with her pregnancy in the beginning, hateful almost. She was upset that she had to run out of surgeries, angry that she needed to take time away from her career. But that was then, and now, he has no doubt that she loves their girl more than anything in the world.

It may have taken a small journey, but it's irrelevant. He straightens slowly, rolling over, Addison too distraught to notice. He'll allow her to have this. This is theirs, mother and daughter, without his interruptions. He closes his eyes, clenches his teeth, and pretends he's ignorant to the scene a few feet away.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

The sky is littered with streetlights beginning to gain strength, sun breaking away. Horns, and voices waft through the evening air and carry themselves to Addison's location behind the brownstone. Her feet are pushed into old sandals, legs covered by the same jeans she wore yesterday. Eyes red, cheeks pale, skin hanging on bones. She feels worse than she looks though.

"She's asleep again," Derek mentions, joining her, both staring out at the park just a ways off. He takes the cigarette from her fingers with resignation and draws it to his own mouth, inhaling deeply. It tastes like crap and he chokes as he hands it back, but there's something about the action that breeds control, something they are both desperate for. The share the rest, and then she strikes another. "Want dinner?"

"Not hungry," she answers automatically.

"Should probably eat though."

"I can't," Addison says with a quick shake of the head, wild hair doing as it pleases. The humidity and her lack of styling gives way to nature.

"Me neither," Derek sighs, stealing the smoke from her.

Addison bites her lip as he has his turn. It's coming now, painfully slow, the beginning of the end. She knows all the signs, is acutely aware of how much fluid and food her daughter will tolerate, notices a distinct lack of care and wonder in her eyes. She would rather die herself than to keep on watching the same scene on repeat every hour of the last week.

Sometimes they run ice chips over her cracked lips, other times they manage to rouse her enough to swallow her meds. One day she's up and playing _Guess Who_ and _Operation_ with them, the next she's barely conscious. The roller coaster keeps on chugging along, dragging everyone. "We...I should call Dorothy."

"Yeah," Derek agrees. Tomorrow, according to their schedule, should be one of those nerve-racking days when Lilly is down.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"It's time," Dorothy tells them sadly, meeting in the hallway just outside the bedroom they've both basically moved in to. "You should probably prepare yourselves."

"Okay," Derek answers for them both, Addison clinging to his hand, turned into his chest.

"Talk to her," Dorothy tells them as they begin to walk away. "Tell her...everything. Say goodbye, tell her it's okay to go now. It's important to talk, so she doesn't feel alone."

"How long?" Derek swallows roughly, as Addison makes a quick getaway before she starts crying in front of a stranger.

"Could be hours, could be days," Dorothy says honestly. She's no guessing machine but through the years she's gotten fairly good at this. "I'd say you probably have another day or so. Her body is shutting down. We can increase her medication, make sure she doesn't feel anything."

"She's already-"

"Derek," Dorothy stops him, her hand on his shoulder, "I know you're worried about the level of medication in her system being unhealthy but you need to understand that at this point, it doesn't matter. What does is being there for you daughter in her last hours."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Four days later they find themselves still waiting, though there's been obvious deterioration. She's not their Lillian anymore, she's a body struggling to fade away. They watch with ragged eyes, torn hearts, as she breathes shallowly and slowly.

Derek takes his daughter's hand, watching her grow restless, murmuring something unintelligible. "She's waiting on you Addie. You need to let her go. Tell her it's okay to go now. We'll be okay."

His voice grabs her attention. He looks...broken. With a surge of courage she drops her head on the lightly colored pillow her daughter sleeps on and whispers something she hopes she'll never have to say again. When she pulls back she nods at Derek and takes Lilly's free hand, still warm to the touch, for the time being.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

The clock in the room says it 6:43 am when Derek opens his eyes. He glances at Addison, curled into the small armchair next to the bed still clutching Lilly's hand. It feels different suddenly and he turns with renewed fear to find her chest nearly quiet, lungs struggling to get up and down. He slips into the bed, pushing down the sheets, and pulls her flush against his chest whispering that it's alright and that he's got her.

He leaves Addison to her sleep, holding on tightly, checking for a pulse every ten minutes. At 7:06 he no longer finds one. At 8:19 he finally manages to pull it together enough to wake his wife. "Addie."

"Hrm?" she responds still asleep.

He stares helplessly when her eyes open, knowing this is the moment that will forever change her, a mother with no child to speak of. His mouth opens but all he can do is sputter until the tears claim him once more. She scurries onto the bed, making sure he's right.

Sunday morning floods the soon-to-be hot summer day, lightly coating them in a memory they will never forget, a time that will not be spoken of.

"She's gone."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

**_A/N:_** I just want to give my sincere thanks to everyone who is still around for this story. I appreciate it greatly, especially with this one.


End file.
